


The Most Important Event of the Year

by jericks3



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Cotton Candy Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Language Barrier, Norwegian Kristoff, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 00:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericks3/pseuds/jericks3
Summary: Anna has to help at the Arendelle Summer Fair.





	The Most Important Event of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've had tucked away in the back of my server for a while and decided to rewrite it. It's been a fun exercise for writing in first person! Hope you all enjoy this little ditty!
> 
> p.s. The T rating is for what the size of Kristoff's feet could allude to. Nothing too graphic.

     The annual Arendelle Summer Fair is, in many people’s opinion, the event of the year and it's importance is rivaled by none other. Or so I'm told. 

     "It  _is_ the most important event of the year." My sister insists.

     "Nothing is more important than Christmas, and there is nothing you can say to change my mind." I reply crossing my arms stubbornly.

     "Fine, we'll agree to disagree." She says looking over everything once again. "Are you sure it looks alright?"  

     Even though I stand firm in my belief that nothing can top Christmas, the Summer Fair _does_ require weeks and weeks of preparation, all of which is done by my sister, the Queen of Organization herself, Elsa Arendelle. 

     "It looks lovely, Elsa." I assure her for the third time. 

     "And you're certain the banner looks straight?" She asks, worrying her lip between her teeth.

     "Yes." I say with a laugh. "You couldn't have a straighter banner." 

     The blue words "Arendelle Summer Fair of 1951" wiggled happily between two posts in the light breeze. 

     "How do I look?" Elsa asks, patting her little hat in place and holding out her perfectly starched skirts once again for me to inspect. 

     "You've never looked beautifuller."

     Elsa raises an exasperated, though good humored, eyebrow at me and laughs. 

     "Well, neither have you." She smiles. "Though, I'm fairly certain your skirt is too short." 

     "It is not!" I say, indignant. "It's the fashion, Elsa!" 

     She raises an eyebrow again, and I grin mischievously. The truth is, the dress I'm wearing is a bit small, and maybe a bit too casual, but I couldn't bear to part with such a lovely pale green fabric. Besides, the lightweight material is doing wonders for the heat. It only comes just slightly above my knees. Nothing too scandalous. 

     "Anyway, I have to get going to announce the beginning of the raffle. You'll help pass out the cake with Gerda?" 

     "Of course! Whatever you say, boss!" I give her a mock salute as she begins walking away. 

     "Don't you two get into too much trouble!" She calls out.

     "How can we!? We're only passing out cake!" I shout back.

     Elsa rolls her eyes over her shoulder as she glides away. 

     

     *****

 

     “Who’s that young lad there?” Gerda asks me after she passes another slice of sponge cake to the family in front of us. 

     “Who?” I turn to my older friend, a wonderfully hilarious busy body, and take a moment to wipe the fringe from my brow.

     “Him.” Gerda nods her head in the direction of a group of factory workers, standing not far away.

     “Which him?” As I ask, I spot who Gerda must be talking about. “The one in red tartan?”

     Red Tartan Shirt.

     That’s what I’ve been calling him for two months. The giant Norwegian who moved to our small village and began working in the tin mill. He has other shirts, not just that red tartan one, but it seems to be the one he wears most often. He always has the sleeves rolled up to the elbow revealing impressive forearms.

     I have most certainly noticed him.

     He passes by our cottage with his dog early every morning when I am out watering the garden.

     I have tried not to stare at him, truly I have, and I would say I have succeeded for the most part. Elsa has always warned me about my manners. Though, there were times when I had strategically placed myself and my watering can close to the road and I just couldn't help but peer under my hat at him.

     He is handsome, there is no denying that. Tall with broad shoulders, blond hair, and a large nose that seems to make his face more stoic. There is something else about him that fascinates me, though, and I can't quite put my finger on what it is.

     “Of course, him!” Gerda whispers back emphatically. “There’s a prime hunk of a man if I’ve ever seen one.”

     “Gerda!” I giggle behind my hand.

     “What!? It’s the truth! I might be old, but I’m not dead.” She raises her eyebrow cheekily. “I mean, look at those hands! It makes you wonder what he can do with them.”

     “Gerda!” I hiss, trying to both contain my giggles and the blush rising on my cheeks.

     "Sweet heaven, look at the size of his feet, Anna! You know what they say about the size of a man's feet, don't you?"

     “Gerda! This is a church function!” I chide, my cheeks flaming now.

     “Oh, my, my! He’s looking at you!”

     “Pish posh.” I wave her away with my hand and go back to my task. "He is not."

     “I swear he is!”

     Curiosity gets the better of me and I steal a glance in his direction.

     I have most certainly noticed him, but I've never thought for one moment he has noticed me. He always seems so focused whenever he walks by, never giving more than a polite nod to those who pass him on the sidewalk. I thought maybe once I had caught him looking at me, but I figured that was just wishful thinking. 

     That’s why when I look over to see him staring directly at me I stumble in my distribution of cake.

     His eyes lock onto mine for a moment and I feel a funny jolt in my stomach.

     I quickly look back down.

     “Oho!” Gerda titters. “He’s coming this way!”

     "He is not."

     "Yes, he is! I'll take my leave now."

     “Gerda! Gerda!” I make a grab at her quickly but she wriggles out of my reach.

     I then find myself rearranging sponge cake with vigor, dying to look up and see if Gerda was telling the truth yet too afraid to do so.

     My dress suddenly feels entirely too plain. I should have worn a nicer one with starched skirts and petticoats like Elsa's. I should have put more thought into my appearance. It's the Church Fair, after all. 

     I’m just about to determine that Gerda was lying when I see that there is, in fact, someone standing just to my left across the cake table. I see a red plaid shirt out of the corner of my eye and I suck in a quick breath.

     “Um. Hello.” A deep timbered voice reverberates through me.

     I’m unsure why his voice is surprising to me. It sends my pulse skittering and yet it calms me all at once.

     I brave a glance up into impossibly deep amber eyes.

     “Hi,” I say, feeling a bit dumb as I quickly try to swipe the fringe off my forehead again.

     “You are the girl who waters the flowers.” He says through a thick Norwegian accent.

     “And you’re the man in the red tartan shirt,” I say unable to hide a smile.

     “Tartan?” He asks, seeming confused by the word.

     “Uh, yes. It’s the pattern...” I faintly trace lines in the air above his chest, “the pattern on your shirt.”

     “Oh.” He gives me a half a smile that makes my heart do a funny flip. “So, you see me... walking everydays?”

     I feel another blush come to my cheeks but I don't try to hide it. Instead, I stick out my chin a bit and cock an eyebrow.

     “Yes, I have noticed you.”

     “I see you everydays… I want to say hello.”

     “Well then, why haven’t you?”

     “My English is not good.” He admits rubbing the back of his neck.

     “It sounds perfectly fine to me.” I grin and hold out my hand for him to shake. "I'm Anna." 

     With a wide, lopsided grin, he reaches across the table and takes it in one of his impossibly large ones.

     "Anna." He repeats softly.

     I find that I quite like the way my name sounds when he says it. There's almost an extra 'h' sound on the end that makes it seem like it's said in reverence. 

     "And what about you?" I ask, still shaking his hand because he hasn't let go of mine and it just seems rude to be the first one to end such a symbol of goodwill. "What's your name?" 

     "Kristoff."

     Suddenly I find myself agreeing with my sister; the Summer Fair is by far the most important event of the year.

**Author's Note:**

> Kristoff 100% wore that shirt all the time because it was the nicest one he owned and he wanted to impress Anna.


End file.
